Make each day be everyday!

Fuck your age, put on your high heeled boots and a pair of overalls and do Meryl Streep proud.

they invited us over for dinner. the butch always greeted us while the femme finished dinner and we took off our shoes and one would take our coats and the butch would clap her hand on my shoulder, and the femme would touch my elbow gently while she took out my chair. they fed us, we played board games, they talked openly about being gay. they held hands across the dining table, and twirled their wedding rings, neither seeming to notice they were doing it. watching them methodically work, hosting this beautiful dinner, moving together like two pieces of an intricate puzzle, like weaving together yarn and hemp, like gears, like one soul split evenly between two bodies–

i had never seen love like that. i had never met women like them. women who wore athletic sandals in november. women who wore sundresses with denim and cowboy boots and called her wife “sonnyboy,” whose wife was always quite put together, button-down buttoned to the top, tie straight (with the constant help of her wife), hair short & cropped to the scalp all the way round. women who both did the dishes. 

trans person: i like gender tho

like. gay women, do you remember growing up being told you were meant to find a husband, carry the children you have with him, support them and him first, maybe to the point of effacing yourself? and gay men, do you remember growing up being told you were meant to find a wife, get a good job, father children, and carry on the family name and everything that goes with it?

do you remember realizing that you could never be this? and that, at the end of the day, the thought of being it repulsed you? that you were fundamentally different–flawed, even–fundamentally wrong and that everything you needed in your life was immoral and unnatural, or at least a disappointment? do you remember that choice you made? between rejecting everything you’d been told was in your future trying to make something of that pain–and sacrificing a fundamental part of yourself trying to be something you weren’t?

do you think straight people go through that? do you think that, being told all the same things, they know what it’s like to feel that panic and alienation?

i don’t understand why they can’t see that our closets are like this too. that we didn’t grow up internalizing everything society prescribes for a man or woman–that we grew up full of dread, and horror, and constant questioning of what was wrong with us and how we could possibly exist in the world. that, even if we tried to fulfill those prescriptions, we did so at the cost of our bodies and personhoods. that, as women, we were reckoning with the confines and disenfranchisement of womanhood on top of this.

THIS REALLY

CREPED